DarknessA Short Story
by LQ Aredhel
Summary: OneShot: Gohan reflects on the death of his father.


Darkness all around me. Darkness filling up my every thought, my every move, everything I see is clouded and blinded by the shadow that consumes my very existence. I stare into the darkness, I stare it in the eye, but what good does it do, there is nothing there, nothing forever. A tunnel of empty thoughts and dreams inhabiting my mind and my body.  
  
Darkness consumes everything. Only light can block it out, and there is no light here. The light disappeared when my father gave his life to destroy Cell. Yes, he was the light, his existence penetrated the darkness like nothing before. Now that it is gone, what will come of my life and me? The darkness will consume it all....  
  
Something is coming behind me. I turn to see my master, Mr. Piccolo coming towards me with a lantern in his hand. He is silent. He stands next to me and stares into the darkness with me. What words could describe the blinding pain in my heart? How can I tell him how I feel? Should I try to explain about the darkness? Would he understand?  
  
We stand in silence; I wonder what Mr. Piccolo is thinking. Does he feel the pain? Does he feel the emptiness in the air? I felt my father's presence all my life, but now his energy is gone, the air is clear and crisp as if nothing is wrong, but everything is wrong. The wind is trying to trick us all. It felt nice, blowing my hair around my face as I stand on the edge of a cliff and stare into the abyss of darkness below me. Nothing will ever be the same again.  
  
Piccolo turns to me, looking me in the eye like he has done so many times, and speaks, "Your father was a noble man, Gohan."  
  
I watch the black clouds move across the moon, hiding the only light besides the lantern. I hate the lantern. It holds the light that my father once had. It stole him from me.  
  
"He gave his life for you, and for everyone on Earth. He was a great man. But he did what he had to do."  
  
My face hardens as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I will not cry. I will not be weak.  
  
"We will all remember him." Piccolo is watching me, I know he is. He is waiting for the little boy inside of me to break through, for my tears to fall and for my weakness to be revealed. I will not let it happen.  
  
"I do not need to remember him, Piccolo." I tell him, holding back emotion with every piece of my will. "I don't need him!"  
  
My master is still watching. I feel his eyes on my face. The pain is almost maddening. I want to scream I want to cry! My father is dead!  
  
I look up to Piccolo, the tears betraying my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. "I miss him." I hear myself say.  
  
A sadness fills his eyes. A look of helplessness spreads across his face. I've never seen him look like this before.  
  
The tears blurred my eyes completely, but I still stare up at his face. "How can I make it go away?"  
  
He blinks. "Make what go away?"  
  
"The pain!" I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget everything. My mind is out of control my perception is gone. Everything seems so distorted.  
  
Mr. Piccolo seems lost for a moment, then he gets down on one knee and does something he has never done before. He hugs me.  
  
Even with all the strength inside of me, all the energy and all the training I had gone through since I was five, nothing could help hold back my tears now. Nothing could stop the knife cutting into my heart, tearing it apart as I cry on Piccolo's shoulder.  
  
He is silent, and for that I am thankful. The feeling of helplessness is mutual I suppose. He can't make my pain go away, and I can't bring my father back. Everything is as it should be. But why does it have to be like this? Why are we given so many feelings and so little power over them? If only mortals could block them out, have a choice as to whether we want to feel or not. Why not let our hearts be numbed, and our eyes be dry of the mournful tears that wish to be shed?  
  
Would you give it up? All of the feelings? The rush of doing something for the first time? The sting of betrayal, the warmth of love? The twinge of guilt, and the helplessness of loss.  
  
I stare into the sunrise, my eyes blurred with tears, searching the colors in the clouds. Red, orange, purple, blue, they all mix together in a frenzy of vibrant beauty. The sunlight penetrates the dark of night and day arrives on the horizon.  
  
Alone again with my thoughts, I know, I could never give up those feelings. They are what shape who we are. Without feeling we are nothing, just pieces of flesh walking around in an empty world of darkness. No matter how much the pain cuts into me and my heart screams for release, I will not let go. I will remember my father.  
  
But, oh the pain. 


End file.
